


After the Arena

by Eida



Category: The Arena - Lindsey Stirling (Music Video)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eida/pseuds/Eida
Summary: After facing the unfriendly crowds, three pairs of performers talk over a campfire and figure out where to go from here.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maharetr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharetr/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Dusk had fallen over the desert. The wind blew in fits and starts, making the red banners that were raised at every Gathering flutter, then come to rest once more.

The festivities of the day were over, for the most part. The day's biggest event, the competition at the Arena, had finished hours ago; a single victor had been crowned. The spectators had had a grand old time with that; it felt good to sit up in the bleachers, watching the contestants perform, standing in judgement—and heaven help the poor performers below if they failed to properly amuse you.

Life in the Wastelands was hard. You couldn't travel through the dry, dusty land without being aware of your own weakness. Nature was merciless. If you didn't prepare properly—or if you ran into some misfortune—the Wastelands might very well kill you with heat, or thirst, or poison.

There was nothing like the flat emptiness of the desert to make a soul feel small.

Humans being what they were, it was no wonder that some got a cruel pleasure in standing in power over others, and the events at the Arena gave them a chance to do so. It was the crowd that crowned the victor—those who didn't have the courage to compete themselves were eager to throw things and hiss insults while they were swept up in the heady sensation of being part of a mob.

For six people who sat around a little fire—those who'd _had_ the courage to stand before the audience and compete—the day's events had been painful.

Still. There was some small compensation in the fact that at least it was over and done with.

“You were damned impressive,” said the man in the close-fitting grey hat to a pair of men who'd been among his competition. “Watching you, I didn't know how you managed not to hit each other with those sticks you were using.”

“Practice,” said the man with braided hair, giving a one-shouldered shrug.

“That,” said his short-haired partner, “and we know each other well enough to know what the other person's about to do.” He grinned. “Most of the time.”

The man with braided hair gave his partner a sidelong glance. “It was _once,_ Aaron.”

“It still hurt like the devil, love,” said Aaron, rubbing his left ear. He added, in explanation for the others, “It was an accident while Marcus and I were training, a bit less than a week ago.”

“Does it still hurt?” the little girl, who was sitting beside her mother, asked. She was clearly worn by the day's events—and with good reason. “My mom probably has something for that—”

Aaron shook his head. “No, no, not any longer. But it's kind of you to offer, Lia.” By way of changing the topic, he added, “Say, Riana, those headdresses look like something I've seen before, but I can't quite recall what.”

“You ever meet a Rememberer before?” asked Riana, Lia's mother. “We sometimes wear antlers. It's a symbol—deer shed their antlers each year, then regrow them. That which is lost can be regained. Or... that's the hope.” Her lips twisted in a bitter expression. “I lost the place I called home—and the people I called kin—when I was cast out. A patient of mine died—the leader's daughter. There was nothing I could have done, but not everyone believed that. There were politics to the situation I'd rather not get into—by Lady Death, I hate politics. For people who've worked so hard to archive history, the Rememberers certainly don't seem to have learned much... and they hold grudges.” She shook her head. “Still. My daughter is here with me, and safe, and that's all the home, or family, I need.”

The fire crackled, sending sparks swirling up into the air.

“Yes, I think I recall meeting one, ages ago,” said Aaron.

“And I don't think your people are alone in foolishness,” said Marcus, glancing over at Aaron. The two met each others' gaze, silently communicating something between them.

Aaron sighed, and turned back to Riana. “We were banished for daring to call the war between our peoples a useless waste of life. Outcasts, all four of us. Or...?” He glanced at the other two sitting by the fire.

“I suppose you could call me an outcast,” the other woman said. “But only in the sense that they wouldn't take me back. I was born in what we called the Refuge. I ran away. Living underground, never seeing the sun, shutting out the outside world—it's no kind of life. Though I suppose it was safer, at times.”

“Fewer thieves?” her companion asked.

The woman snorted, and gave her partner a little shove. “I won't say it never happened—but there were no Coyote-brothers down there.”

“You're a thief?” asked Marcus, raising his eyebrows.

“Not since I signed on with Miss Valentine, here,” said the man, in a conciliatory fashion. “Part of the deal.”

“Alex tried to rob me one night. He... didn't quite pull it off,” said Valentine, with a lopsided smirk.

“She pretended she was sleeping until I turned my back, and then she tackled me. Got me off-guard, off-balance...” Alex shook his head.

“You lost, fair and square, sweetheart,” said Valentine. “The mandated hand-to-hand combat training certainly came in handy once I left the complex.”

“Can't argue with that,” said Alex. “Anyways, the fact that I wasn't trying to make off with her water probably tipped her off to the fact that I was a 'yote, so she invited me to share a meal. Coyote-honor meant I couldn't rob her after that.”

“Seems like a good way to encourage people to give you free food,” said Riana, sounding a touch skeptical.

“It wasn't a _big_ meal,” said Alex. “Just, like, a token. I mean, I _had_ just tried to rob her, so I wasn't expecting much. Coyote-brethren have rules. Don't steal water, don't rob anyone who's shown you hospitality, and don't kill unless the other person's trying to kill you. Still, we got to talking, and eventually we wound up deciding to stick together. I'm a reformed man, now, for at least as long as I'm running with this fine lady. Speaking of which,” he said, glancing over at Valentine, “any thoughts on where we should go next?”

“Dunno,” she said, shrugging. “Probably find a caravan heading out that could use a couple extra hands, or at least is willing to let us travel with them a while so long as we pay our own way. Though my pouch is lighter than I'd like.”

“It's a common enough affliction,” said Aaron, sighing. “We're a bit short as well. We'd hoped, perhaps, we might be able to live more comfortably if we won the grand prize... well, it was a long shot.”

“I still think the crowd must've been born without any taste at all, the way they reacted—towards all of us,” said Alex.

Marcus snorted. “I can't say I disagree with you. Still, we did the best we could—I know how skilled we are, as does Aaron; what the crowd does can't take that away. The two of you danced well, too—though I'd call Valentine the better dancer.”

Aaron shot his partner a sharp look, presumably for his lack of tact.

Still, the ex-thief didn't seem overly perturbed. “Won't argue there,” said Alex. “She's taught me everything I know. I'm mostly there to catch and twirl, as needed.”

“Hey, now, don't be too hard on yourself,” said Valentine. “You took to it just fine.”

“What was it like, living underground?” Lia asked, after a moment.

Valentine pursed her lips. “Well... you knew everyone. You couldn't really help it. Everyone had a job to do—everyone had a place assigned to them. Every day was pretty much like every other day. It was boring, mostly. Though some people like boring. Sometimes, when things get rough, I start to think maybe boring wasn't so bad. But I'm not sorry I managed to sneak out. What was...” she started, before stopping short.

“What was it like back home, at the Archives?” Lia finished. “It was nice. Before...” She shrugged, looking a bit sad. “Before we left... the Archives have lots of books, and papers—and we memorized a lot of things, too, in case the books and papers got ruined. I know a ton of poetry; I want to write some, someday.”

“I bet you'll be great at it,” said Valentine. “Do you have a favorite poem?”

Lia nodded, slowly. “Yes. It's one about hope being like a bird.”

Riana smiled, sadly. “Hope... is something we're in dire need of. I don't know where we'll go next. I'll admit, we came this way mostly because there was a caravan coming this way when I left... and we figured it couldn't hurt to try. If we'd won, the two of us would have been set for a time. As it is... I've got some medical skill. I can find a place for us. But I don't know where, just yet.”

Marcus and Aaron shared another meaningful look. “It could be you'd have a use for two warriors on your way there, wherever it is,” said Marcus. “It's a dangerous world out there.”

Riana paused a moment, studying the two, then nodded. “I think we'd appreciate the help,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you'd have a use for a third person who knows a thing or two about stopping thieves,” said Alex, tilting his head towards Valentine. “And maybe even someone who's still got contacts with the Coyote-brethren.”

“I don't think we'll need help from _thieves,_ ” Marcus said. But he added, “Still, you say you're not a thief any longer, and you've shared our fir...” He glanced over at Riana.

Riana smiled. “Well, I suppose we could do with some more company. And Lia seems to like all of you.”

“I do,” said Lia. “I really liked both your dances—and I'm glad you didn't hit Aaron in the ear again,” she said to Marcus, “or drop Valentine,” she said to Alex.

“I'm glad I didn't drop her, too,” said Alex.

“So'm I,” said Valentine. She glanced at Aaron. “You mentioned your training accident—I lost count of the number of times Alex let me fall into the dirt when he was just getting started.”

“It wasn't _that_ many times, was it?” said Alex.

Lia giggled. Alex sighed. “Well, either way, I'm better now,” he said.

“So. Tomorrow,” said Riana. “We'll set off together... hopefully, we can find someplace to settle.”

“Would be nice,” said Aaron. “We've been traveling together for a while—sometimes hiring on as caravan guards, or doing other work, before moving on. The thought of finding a permanent home... is a nice one.”

“I'm not sure I'm ready to set down roots yet,” said Valentine. “Still. If you do find someplace to call home—I'll stick with you until you get there, and then I'll be sure and stop by from time to time. I want to see what poems you write, Lia.”

“I'll do my best,” said Lia. She stretched, and yawned, glancing up at the dark sky.

Three pairs had made their way to the Arena; now a set of six would leave, making their way wherever their journey might lead.

The crowd had booed and jeered, but what did the crowd mean, in the end?

“You'll be wonderful, I know it,” said Riana, giving her daughter a hug. “You just write your heart out, and I know it will be beautiful.”

“Tomorrow morning, then,” said Marcus. “We'll be needing to make an early start. I can take first watch; the rest of you had best get to sleep.”

The night was cool, and quiet; the dreams of the six were colored more by hope for the future than sorrow over the day's disappointment.

Overhead, a great host of stars danced through the night sky before, after a long while, giving way to the soft grey of dawn.


End file.
